


Together

by cryptidbf, denounce



Series: People Like Us [3]
Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Age Difference, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Secret Relationship, its just 4 years but im being safe, will add more as we go on!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 14:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14620857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidbf/pseuds/cryptidbf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/denounce/pseuds/denounce
Summary: 1938.The Merrills are staying with their family friends, the Kelsos, in Louisiana. During this time, Hank finally acts on his feelings for Jack— and Jack reciprocates. This is a story about the birth of their relationship, a passion that carried on until Hank's untimely passing......and a storm that rages on the horizon.





	Together

All Hank wants to do is get some shut-eye, but the thundering storm outside won’t let him.

It’s one of those hot and rainy Louisiana nights, humid, a monsoon pounding against the window with a flashing sky, projecting shadows into the small guest room. He’s been trying to get to sleep for _hours_ now, but as the night goes on, the storm just gets worse and worse. Every clap of thunder makes the whole house wail and quake— Hank doesn’t doubt that there’s probably some shingles crashing to the ground outside.

He exhales sharply, turning to his other side and nearly kicking off the thin blanket. _God,_ even _that’s_ too hot, and it’s barely over an inch thick. Pressing his face into the pillow, he grumbles out an _“I hate this”_ and continues to toss and turn with all the restlessness of a horse that’s been stabled for too long.

Every movement comes to a halt when he hears the door creak open. It’s Jack, candle in hand. “Hey,” he whispers, “Are you awake?”

Hank untenses upon hearing his voice, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “I couldn’t get to _sleep,_ ” he says, letting his hands fall into his lap. He offers Jack a tired smile. “Did you sleep at all?”

Jack hums softly and moves to set the candle on the bedside table. “Scoot over,” he says, and when Hank complies, he sits down beside him. “I _tried_ sleeping, but— I mostly just tossed and turned for an hour.” A pause, as if he’s in thought. “I don’t know. I can normally sleep through storms like this.”

“Yeah,” Hank says, but he isn’t entirely there— he’s staring at Jack, appreciating how the soft light of the candle illuminates his strong features. He snaps out of it by clearing his throat and averting his gaze. “I have a hard time sleeping, in general. It feels like there’s still so much to _do_ during the night.”

Jack keeps his eyes on him, steady and focused. “That makes sense,” he says, “Anything I can do to help?”

Hank opens his mouth to speak— but he shuts it before he can even draw a breath. He’s staring up at Jack now, wide brown eyes a soft amber in the candlelight. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about a night with Jack; they’ve known each other practically all their lives due to the friendship between their parents, they’re not that far away in age, Hank just turned twenty one under a week ago… now seems like the perfect time to seize this opportunity, to make his age-old fantasies become reality.

Inhaling deeply, he decides to keep it under wraps— it could just be an innocent question, nothing more. “I don’t know,” Hank says, and even though he tries his damnedest to keep the suggestivity out of his tone, it still slips in and hides just beneath the surface. “What do you have in mind?”

Jack quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t know,” he parrots, “but it seems like _you_ might actually have something in mind after all.”

For a long time, Hank just stares, a blush starting at his nose and spreading to his cheeks. He licks his lips before moving a bit closer, reaching up to cup Jack’s face with a gentle hand. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for years,” he breathes out, leaning in and— he falters before he can reach Jack’s lips. “Is… is that weird?”

With a sharp inhale, Jack opens his mouth to speak— shuts it. If the way his eyes had widened are any indication, Hank had taken him by surprise. He shakes his head and exhales with an almost nervous laugh. “I mean, a little, but…” He shrugs slightly and runs a hand back through his hair, a few strands falling in his face. “Uh, if it’s what you want to do, I guess it’s worth a shot.”  

Letting out a laugh of his own, quiet and skittish, Hank nods and shifts even closer. “It’s worth a shot,” he echoes, leaning in and finally closing the gap between them. Immediately, there’s a spark— that spark grows into a flame, an undiscovered passion that shocks them both. Hank’s free hand moves to the other side of Jack’s face, gently urging him closer. Jack takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss _just_ enough, fingers ghosting Hank’s waist. Hank can’t help the soft noise that rises from his throat, nor can he help the way his lips part to allow Jack full access. In his daze, he reaches down to guide Jack’s hands a little lower without hesitation, his mind racing with the feeling of the older man’s tongue exploring his mouth.

Much to Hank’s disappointment, Jack pulls back. The disappointment is quickly chased away by him shifting to push him down on the bed, effectively pinning him. “You’re going to have to be quiet,” Jack mumbles, and he’s trailing kisses from Hank’s jaw down to his neck, “My sisters are in the next room.”

“It’s hard—” Hank gasps sharply when Jack’s teeth graze his skin, goosebumps rising as he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s hard when this is everything I’ve ever wanted.” He breathes out a sudden moan when Jack bites, reaching up to thread his fingers through the man’s hair. “And— and then some,” he manages to get out.

Jack chuckles, pressing a kiss to where he’d bitten. “Just how long exactly have you been thinking about this?” His tone is teasing. When all he gets as a response is another noise, he continues, “Not much of a talker, are you?”

“I _am_ a talker,” Hank scoffs, but it quickly turns into another gasp and a quieter moan, muffled by his hand. When he pulls his hand away, he stops to examine the ring of teeth-marks around his knuckle, swallowing hard. It’s then that there’s another bite, harder this time, one that draws a near yelp out of Hank before he can think to cover his mouth. “Oh my _God,_ Jack, okay, it’s— _fuck,_ it’s been six years, maybe seven,” he chokes out, shutting his eyes tight enough to see patterns bloom across his eyelids. “You were the first person I ever really had these _thoughts_ about.”

Jack pulls back a bit to look him in the face, eyebrows raised. “Jesus, Hank,” he says, and he’s absentmindedly brushing some hair out of Hank’s face, hand resting on his cheek. He looks to be in thought and then, there’s a shift in his expression. “Wait, I’m not— this isn’t going to be your first time, is it?”

Hank shakes his head, holding Jack’s gaze when he opens his eyes. “No, I’ve fooled around with other men, but—” He stops, his face flushing a deep red as he looks away, eyebrows knitting together. “Nothing’s… ever… I don’t know, gone— gone _in._ ” He can’t help but let out a laugh at that, shaky and breathless. “That feels _so_ weird to say out loud.”

For a moment, Jack says nothing, eyebrows furrowed in thought again. Then, he presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to Hank’s lips. When he pulls back, his expression is serious. “I’ll go slow,” he says, “but I need to know if this is what you _really_ want first.”

Eyes darting back to meet Jack’s own, he inhales deeply, fully intending to respond— but it just comes out in a wheeze. It feels like everything’s come to a stop under the weight of this decision, even the raging tempest pounding against the window. He has to ask himself: _is this really what I want_ _?_ Every path leads to an unequivocal _yes._ He snaps back to reality with a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder from the outside storm, jumping at the sudden noise. With a hard swallow, he gives a nod as he reaches up to cup Jack’s face. “I want this,” he says, “I want this more than you know, Jack. More than I can even put into words.” There’s a beat of silence as he pauses to rub Jack’s cheek softly with his thumb. “I want _you._ ”

Jack inhales sharply. “Well,” he starts, “Let’s do this, then.”

 

* * *

 

Something jolts Jack awake _far_ too early.

He bites out a groan, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. There’s no telling what time it actually is, but it’s early enough for the sun to not even be out yet. He shifts slightly— and tenses when he realizes he isn’t alone. Just like that, everything comes flooding back in one huge wave. He’d _slept_ with _Hank_ and… oh God, Hank’s _parents_ and his _sister_ were just down the hall.  

Sitting up abruptly, he tears his fingers through his hair. Despite something telling him he shouldn’t, he looks down at Hank beside him, still fast asleep. Guilt settles in his stomach— what was he even _thinking_ last night? With another groan, he buries his face in his hands. Never before had he made such a huge _mistake_. It’s too much. Far too much.

Beside him, Hank begins to stir. All that does is worsen Jack’s internal panic. _Please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up_ —

He could only be so lucky. Hank reaches up to rub at his eyes, letting out a soft and tired groan. The first word out of his mouth makes Jack’s heart beat a little faster, almost as if it’s trying to burst out of his chest. “…Jack?” He mumbles, drowsy and slow.

Inhaling sharply, Jack runs his fingers through his hair again. “Morning,” he says lamely, “Uh— how’d you sleep?”

Hank finally opens his eyes, a surprisingly bashful smile spreading across his face the moment he sees Jack. “Better than ever,” he says, sitting up so he can press a feather-light kiss to Jack’s lips. “Especially with you next to me.”

Jack relaxes a bit— and swears at himself internally for it. “I’m glad,” he says, and even though his mind is still _screaming,_ he leans in to close the gap between them again briefly. When he pulls back, he places a hand on Hank’s cheek. “Nice as this is, I should get dressed and go back to my room before anybody else is awake.”

“Oh,” Hank says, letting out a small laugh. “I forgot about that part.” He gives Jack yet another kiss, lingering for just a bit longer this time. When he pulls away, it’s almost enough to make Jack ache for more. “Think anyone’s gonna notice me limping around?” Hank’s tone is joking.

That gets a snort out of Jack. “Make an excuse like you tripped over the dog going to the bathroom or something,” he says, and he moves to get out of bed, gathering up his clothes from where they’d been thrown on the floor the night before. He wastes no time in pulling them on and turns his attention back to Hank. “See you downstairs at breakfast?”

Hank nods, watching him with an appreciative gaze and an appraising grin. “Yeah, 'long as I don't oversleep,” he says. Jack's content to leave it at that, already going for the door, when suddenly— “Hey, wait.”

“What is it?” Jack asks, eyebrows raised.

Hank swallows hard. “I love you.” It's completely sincere, possibly the most honest thing Jack's ever heard out of him.

Jack breathes in a sharp intake of air and breathes out with a quiet laugh. “I love you too,” he says, voice impossibly soft. With that, he steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him, leaning against it. His heart is drumming a ridiculously uptempo song against his ribcage.

 _Christ_. They’d really… said _that_ to each other. He doesn’t get much time to dwell on it, as the knob of the door next to him starts to rattle. Breath catching in his throat, he all but runs down the hall to his own room, hoping like Hell neither of his sisters noticed him rushing by.

The last thing they need is an interrogation at the dining table.

 

* * *

 

Hank’s supposed to be retrieving plates for breakfast, but all he can think about is last night.

As it is, he’s standing beneath the cupboards right now, doors open and china shining in the sunlight. He’s staring up at them, but he’s not _looking—_ his mind is on other things, such as the way Jack ran his rough hands up and down his body, the way Jack took his time and treated him like a _lover,_ the way Jack knew exactly what to say to drive him over the edge… _everything._ God, he wants it again. He wants it _more_ than again. He wants it _forever,_ but— is that really such a good idea?

He doesn’t regret what happened, not by any means, but if it happened while he was better rested he would’ve been a bit more hesitant. There were certainly some… _questionable_ things about the situation— like how Jack’s four years older, how Hank only _just_ turned twenty one, how both their families were present in the house… the list just goes on and on and on.

Despite it all, though, Hank wouldn’t trade that night for the world. It was a little painful, sure, and he’s sore all over, he’ll admit that, but it was _perfect._ Jack was— _is_ perfect.

He’s taken out of his thoughts by someone clearing their throat behind him. “Hank.” It’s Jack’s younger sister, Theresa. “Are you alright? You’ve been standing there for a while.”

Hank glances over his shoulder, offering Theresa a lopsided smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, turning back to the cabinets and having to stretch out to retrieve the plates. “Just— thinking, y’know?”

Theresa hums and curls a lock of dark hair around her finger. “I suppose,” she says, “but does it really take five minutes to grab plates?” There’s nothing actually harsh to her words— it seems more like an absentminded remark. She moves to take the plates from him.

Chuckling softly, Hank shakes his head. “It doesn’t, Tess,” he says, moving to lean against the counter with his arms crossed. “I guess I’m more distracted than I thought.”

Theresa looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Does it have to do with Jack?” She asks, and before Hank can even process that question, she continues, “Kitty says she saw him leaving your room this morning. Normally, I don’t believe the stories she tells, but… it adds up.”

Hank gapes like a fish, opening and closing his mouth while he thinks of what to say. God, he can feel the tip of his nose flushing a deep red, and he _hates_ it. “Well—” He clears his throat, looking away. “First of all, I thought my window got stuck during the storm, so I got Jack to help me with it. Second of all—” He stops, turning to her with furrowed brows. “Wait, _adds up?_ What’s that mean?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Theresa adjusts her hold on the plates in her hands. “I’ve seen the way you look at him,” she says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t know. I just notice things.”

At that, he forces out an awkward laugh. “Me? Him? You’re— Tess, you’ve gotta be kidding,” Hank says, waving a hand dismissively. “We’re, uh— we’re both _men,_ for one thing, so that’s impossible, and—” He pauses, not realizing that he’s biting his nails as his eyes dart around the kitchen. “And— and for another… thing… we’re more like _brothers_ than anything, so that’s— again, impossible.” He gives her an uncomfortable and completely unconvincing grin, and that in itself is more damning than anything he’s said.

Worst of all, Theresa looks less than impressed. “Hank,” she says, “You seem to have mistaken me for an _idiot_.” She rolls her eyes with a scoff. “I don’t see anything wrong with the fact you’re both men, for _one thing_.” The way she says that makes it obvious she’s mocking him. “For _another,_ that’s bull— at least on your end. Again, I’ve seen the way you look at him. It’s like you think he hung the stars in the sky.”

Inhaling sharply, Hank looks away, eyebrows knitting together in worry as he drops his hand to rest on the counter. He looks back towards Theresa after another moment, hoping to God that the pleading desperation in his tone gets the message across. “Tess, you can't tell _anyone_ about this.”

“Come on, now, I wouldn’t dare,” Theresa says, eyebrows raised impossibly high. She steps closer to speak quieter, then. “Though, if you cover me when I sneak out tonight, I’ll make sure Kitty keeps her mouth shut, too.” She balances the plates on her hip and holds out her pinky, clearly intending on closing the deal.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Hank moves to hook his pinky around hers without an ounce of hesitation. “It's a deal,” he says, giving her a much more genuine smile. It spreads into a grin, his usual carefree demeanor returning to the surface. “By the way, the story for the limp is that I tripped over the dog.”

With a snort, Theresa pulls her hand back. “Did Jack come up with that one?” She asks, but it’s obvious she’s not looking for an answer, as she turns on her heel to leave the room. She stops once she’s at the doorway, turning back to look at him. “You still have to worry about Jan. Lord knows Kitty’s probably already gotten to her.” She taps her knuckles against the wall and— she’s gone before he can respond.

Hank barely gets a chance to breathe before Jack’s walking into the kitchen next. He takes pause, eyebrows furrowed and steady gaze on Hank, but then he moves to stand at his side as if it’s nothing. “Hey,” he says, leaning on the cabinet with one hand, “What were you and Theresa talking about?”

Glancing up at Jack, Hank opens his mouth to respond— but nothing comes. He shuts it, biting his lip instead. “Okay, don’t freak out,” he says, holding out both hands cautiously, “but— Tess knows.” He winces, squeezing his eyes shut and running a hand down his face. “Kitty told her that she saw you coming out of my room.”

At that, Jack breathes out a frustrated noise, combing his fingers through his hair. “That girl always was too smart for her own good,” he says, “She’s not going to tell anyone, is she?”

“She promised not to tell anyone,” Hank says, pausing to snort and shake his head. “As long as I cover for her sneaking out tonight.”

“That’s good,” Jack says, and he makes a face, “Not the sneaking out part. I bet she’s going to go see that Mark kid that lives up the road.” He pauses. “Well, as long as _our_ cover is good, I guess I can overlook it. Once.”

“Once,” Hank repeats, tone distant. He’s awfully distracted by the intense _blue_ of Jack’s eyes— then he’s caught off-guard by a memory from last night flashing in his mind, of that relentless gaze that watched his every reaction as he squirmed and gasped. Mouth dry, Hank shakes his head to clear the thought. _Now_ he can feel that blush creeping to the rest of his face, the one that starts in his nose and crawls to his cheeks.

Jack seems to notice, as he reaches out to put a hand on Hank’s cheek. There’s something of a smirk playing on his lips. “Should I even ask what you’re thinking about right now?” He says, tone low and almost _rough_. “I like it when you blush. It’s cute.”

Breathing out a small laugh, Hank leans into Jack’s palm, eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you,” he says, reaching up to rest his hand over Jack’s. It’s a surprisingly intimate moment, the two of them just appreciating the feeling of each other’s presence. Hank especially so, as he’s leaning in to press a kiss to Jack’s lips.

It doesn’t last long as Jack pulls back with a sharp intake of air. “Hank,” he says, “We’re in the kitchen. Our family is literally in the next room.”

Hank’s lips don’t stray too far from Jack’s. “C’mon, _please,_ ” he says, almost breathless. “I— I know you’re right, I just…” He laughs softly. “I don’t know.”

“You’re awfully convincing,” Jack mumbles, “Just a quick one.” It’s all he has to say before he closes the gap between them, his free hand dropping to rest on the small of Hank’s back. Hank’s hands slide up to Jack’s shoulders, holding onto the fabric of his shirt and almost pulling him closer. In one swift movement, Jack moves to push Hank up against the counter and deepen the kiss. Hank parts his lips to allow Jack's tongue into his mouth, a quiet whine rising from his throat as he tugs Jack even _closer, closer, closer._ He’s effectively pinned himself to the counter in the process and Jack takes the opportunity to roll his hips against him.

Unfortunately for them both, it's then that Hank breaks away— right as he lets out a sharp moan. He immediately clamps his hand over his mouth, brown eyes wide as his mind races as fast as his heart. “Sorry,” he whispers, voice muffled by his hand.

Jack breathes in a sharp intake of air. “It’s my fault,” he whispers back, and he presses an actual quick kiss to Hank’s lips. “Uh, do you— do you want to try and skip out on breakfast?”

“ _Please,_ ” Hank exhales, pulling Jack in for yet _another_ short kiss. It’s sweeter, this time— he pulls away before it can escalate any further. He lets out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think you have to look to see what that did to me.”

With a laugh of his own, Jack trails a hand down Hank’s side, resting it on his hip. “I can hazard a guess,” he says, and finally, he steps away, “I’ll go make up a story and meet you upstairs.”

Hank nods. “Sounds like a plan,” he says. He pauses, wondering whether or not this next move is a good idea, but— _fuck it._ A grin crosses his face as he swoops in close to Jack, standing on the tips of his toes to whisper in his ear. “Y’know, I can use my mouth for more than just a kiss.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Jack breathes out, eyes wide. He swallows hard. “I’ll be back. Fast as I can.” It’s all he has to say before he’s practically scrambling out of the kitchen into the dining room.

Grin still on his face, Hank lets out another laugh once he’s gone— it’s much more confident, this time. _I guess that’s his weak point._ Shaking his head fondly, he moves to leave the kitchen and cross into the hallway, heading upstairs with his mind playing scenario after scenario. Old and new; ones from years past and ones that form now as his thoughts race with possibilities.

It seems that his fantasies really _are_ going to become reality.


End file.
